Advertisements

The Rain and The Song

2E5C180A00000578-3314643-image-a-50_1447291405249.jpg

Brutally raining it was

In the middle of night when I paused

The waking dream of haunting past woke me up

my dried throat demanded a sup

My music player played a melody song

the sweetness of your voice; My soul felt the throng

Back to the time when we would be lovers

In a jiffy the period so long recapitulates

feeling the words that your lips tremble to utter

In the dark of these rainy nights

Baby, I want to feel the warmth of your breath on my neck

The song drowned me even deeper

Into a time where I would caress her

The lyrics appears lucid

corners of my memories bruised

Those haunting memories forces rolling tears

reminding me of a loss my soul bears

But I pick up my shattered pieces

I shrug off the daunting past

for there is no reason to steadfast

Our troubled times together

no longer offer, pain or respite

A day comes and you are a distant memory

I can’t even remember your face; you might

I want to thank you for the lessons taught

for the loyalty and gains that I had sought

Today my shackled self is free

like a bird on a sprouting spring tree

The rain and the song tried their best to drag me back

unshackling the chains I ran and ran, until I eluded the sack!

Malik Umar

Srinagar, Kashmir

 

Advertisements

Textbook Justice: Dil Dil Pakistan

ISLAMABAD — Pakistani Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif resigned on July 28 shortly after the country’s Supreme Court ordered his removal from office in connection with corruption charges stemming from the Panama Papers leak in 2016.

The five-judge panel’s unanimous decision, issued amid tight security in the capital of Islamabad, and Sharif’s immediate resignation plunged the nuclear-armed nation into a political crisis.

The court ruling came immediately after an investigative panel alleged that Sharif’s family could not account for what it said was vast wealth in offshore companies.

“He is no longer eligible to be an honest member of the parliament, and he ceases to be holding the office of prime minister,” Ejaz Afzal Khan, one of the judges, said in court.

In a brief statement, Sharif’s office said Sharif “relinquished his charge” as prime minister after learning of the Supreme Court’s decision.

The statement suggested that the decision was unjust and said Sharif had “serious reservations about the judicial process,” but that he stepped down to show his respect for the judiciary and rule of law.

Crowds were assembled outside the Supreme Court in Islamabad, where more than 3,000 security personnel were deployed ahead of the ruling.

Opponents of Sharif celebrated the decision.

Pakistani Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif (file photo)

“Pakistan’s courts have made a prime minister accountable,”opposition Tehrik-e Insaf party member Fawad Chaudhry said, adding: “Today is a day of victory for Pakistan.”

Pakistani media reported that a criminal investigation would also be launched against Sharif, who was serving as prime minister for the third time, and his family.

He has repeatedly denied any wrongdoing in the case while calling the inquiry into his family’s finances a conspiracy.

“This is not accountability, it is revenge,” Railways Minister Khawaja Saad Rafiq tweeted before the verdict. “In an effort dislodge us, the democratic system has been made a target.”

The Supreme Court also ordered a criminal investigation into the assets of Finance Minister Ishaq Dar, an ally of Sharif who has been credited with helping Pakistan’s economy reach its fastest pace of growth in a decade.

Sharif’s ruling Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N) party, which has a majority in parliament, is expected to name a new prime minister to hold office until elections due next year.

Pakistan’s figurehead president, Mamnoon Hussain, is expected to convene the National Assembly once Sharif’s party nominates a successor.

Sharif, 67, is among the major political casualties of the Panama Papers leaks that brought offshore finance under the spotlight.

Documents from the Panama-based Mossack Fonseca law firm that were made public in April 2016 revealed that three of Sharif’s four children owned offshore companies and assets not shown on his family’s wealth statement.

Sharif’s son Hussain Nawaz at the time acknowledged owning offshore companies but insisted they used legal money to set up businesses abroad.

In 2016, Iceland’s prime minister, Sigmundur Davíd Gunnlaugsson, stepped down amid public outrage that his family had sheltered money offshore.

One of Sharif’s two previous stints as prime minister was cut short by a military coup in 1999.

He returned from exile to win a convincing victory in parliamentary elections in 2013.

No prime minister has completed a full term in power in Pakistan since the country gained independence from British colonial rule in 1947.

Sharif’s brother, Shehbaz, who is chief minister of Punjab province, is a possible contender for the prime minister’s job.

Sardar Ayaz Sadiq, the speaker of the national assembly; Shahid Khaqan Abbasi, the minister of petroleum; Khurram Dastgir Khan, the commerce minister; and Defense Minister Khawaja Muhammad Asif have also been named as possible contenders.

Pakistan’s Supreme Court had once previously disqualified a prime minister. In 2012, it ruled that Prime Minister Yusuf Raza Gilani was guilty of contempt and ordered him removed from office.

With reporting by Reuters and AP

We Grew Up

Somewhere between
“ 7 pani puris for 1 rupee” and
“1 pani puri for 7 rupees”,
we grew up!!
www.meraevents.com_45
Somewhere between
“Ground mai aaja” and
“Online aaja”,
we grew up!!
Somewhere between
“stealing eclairs of your sis” and “Bringing Silk for her”,
we grew up!!
Somewhere between
“Just five more mins Mom” and “Pressing the snooze button”,
we grew up!!
Somewhere between
“Crying out loud just to get what we want” and
“Holding our tears when we are broken inside”,
we grew up!!
Somewhere between
“I want to grow up” and
“I want to be a child again”,
we grew up!!
Somewhere between
“Lets meet and plan” and
“Lets plan and meet”,
we grew up!
And as we grew up, we realized how, silently but surely ,
our lives have changed…

Sale & Offers

Dear Customer,

Today, we, your trusted brand, would like to thank you for being such an ass-it (asset) for our brand…Not only do you enjoy our, over-priced, unaffordable, unreal, not at all necessary, goods but you also extend the courtesy of  flaunting it to your friends…In the silly hope that this activity in turn would help your garner appreciation…We always appreciate your stupidity…In order to celebrate such degree of  enlightenment, we your friendly, trusted brand has slashed our prices by 50%, terms and conditions applied, sale only on old stock, no returns and no refunds, no exchange either… This 50% discount is just for you and the dream just doesn’t end here… It gets better..The moment  you buy 5 goods and more, let me remind you at only 50% of it’s original price, you then, my friend, would be entitled to win a coupon… This coupon would not be provided to everyone but only and only to you, because you bought 5 garments or more, that too for flat 50% …

This coupon is your lucky break which you have been waiting since ages…Trust us as we are your friendly, trusted brand… This coupon would allow you to win, a car, a house and a lovely wife…Yes, a wife, we said it…You do not have to shrug your shoulders in disbelief…We do have a collection of lovely, needy wives whom we would happily like you to enjoy…So you see how much we care about you….We offering you, a once in a lifetime offer, to make all your dreams come true and that offer comes with a free coupon…and in order to get that coupon, all you have to do, is to buy 5 items or more from your trusted, friendly brand at 50% off….

There you go it’s an exclusive offer…mind it…today till 5pm only…

Rush to your nearby store! Keep your credit card handy! You may also visit our website but entire collection not available online. And remember, when you shop, the world gets better.

Happy Shopping Fucker!

Plastic Jesus

Good evening, dear Friend!

Today is the luckiest day of your lifetime…Today you would receive a gift, greater than mankind…This gift would change the way you see yourself…You would no longer feel any pain, any suffering…The gift would set you free…You would be able to buy goods, eg: cars, clothes, houses, boats; speedy one and the one which floats, motorbikes, super kites, sleepless nights, once again, you would feel sane and young ..You no longer would have grey hair,  you can visit expensive salons and get essential beauty treatments… Everyone in the dazzling malls would like your shine and you would come home and fuck your wife, while she finishes her wine.. the same wine which you would get because of the gift,

you are about to receive!

These are the little things, let me skip to the most appealing part…In times of dire stress, we cover your front and back, we would also make this gift earn you some reward points, which then combined by many other reward points, which you would earn after spending thousands of dollars, would then add up to $1 that would be donated to help the starving and the poor…..That gift my friend is here…

Open the box…It’s a gift from your trusted, friendly, banker….

Yikes, It’s fucking credit card…..Shit!

6.jpg

This looks ugly!

This looks ugly!

Childhood is a curious stage of our lives. We encounter with and learn to deal; an entirely, never felt before, fresh set of feelings. Feelings unknown to self! Feelings which our enslaved consciousness is conditioned to consider, prohibited!

Each incident, we experience in our lives, both small and huge, is always unique, in it’s own flimsy way.  Each experience adds knowledge to our vast data base. Though our minds have been tamed by targeted, suppressive, behaviour training, by widely regarded institutions, we still have a crude, primal being, inside, wriggling in pain, searching for truth. The truth of our existence, which is hidden, behind all those, numerous, false stories, we tell us and the world, each morning and every night.

Growing up was fun. The solo objective of Nik’s days were not to get caught. You need to tread carefully, if you want to experience fun, for longer periods. Getting caught can change the equation and dampen your free spirits. Hence, Follow the rules and break them, when no one’s watching! That was his motto of life during those days.

Are you crazy? You want us to skip college, in order to, watch some movie, you find fascinating! Do you want to get us expelled?‘ shouted Max, as loud as his lungs allowed. He made sure, he displayed emotions of anger, using his facial expressions. Conversations, both friendly and unfriendly, are more impactful when proper display of emotions is added.

‘Not some movie, that is where, you are entirely wrong. The movie is named – Fight Club, based on the novel by the same name. This is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time. ‘Your’ being the highlight of the moment. It’s your life, your time, your mistakes, your decisions, your contemplation, again, your mistakes and your failures. So you can decide whether you would like to use your time in order to understand something, larger than your petty life or you choose to follow, mundane, set guidelines of your so-called educational institution.’

And Nik continued preaching his philosophy –

“The essence of our educational system is to help us learn the art of making money. This in itself is a flawed concept, as money is a reward for success. Instead of learning, the art of making money, we should be learning how to identify and nurture our passions. Passion fuels our success, which in turn, generates, money, as a bi-product……You are advised to borrow money from financial institutions to achieve your temporary goals which are determined, not by you but by different, failed institutions of society, eg: Family, Schools, Colleges, Government, Corporations, Temples, Mosques and churches…

You need stuff! A big fucking television, an Iphone, a luxury car, a DSLR, social networking presence, celebrations in bars, branded clothing, matching footwear, planned vacations, tax benefits and a place to call home. Now, the world knows, you cannot buy any of these, without being successful. Even if your parents hand it to you, you would not be able to enjoy, the fruits of nothingness. Hence we got banks! They are such nice institutions that they offer you assistance, to buy your dreams, on easy installments. Welcome to the corporate endorsed world where happiness sells on billboards and if you find happiness expensive, your friendly banker would loan you money, which then you can pay back, till you die, of course, using an easy, payback, monthly, installment plan, which you are free to choose from many plans.

Sip a coffee, Drink a cola, You just sold yourself!


This excerpt is from Nishant’s – Broken Radio – Novel. This book is not for those who believe in happily ever after tales. It’s brilliantly creepy, violent and extremely offensive in nature. It preaches a cult philosophy against an emasculating consumerist culture.

The story is a brilliant mix of transgressed elements held together by dirty realism. It focuses on characters who feel confined by the norms and expectations of society and who break free of those confines in unusual or illicit ways. Because they are rebelling against the basic norms of society, protagonists may seem mentally ill, anti-social, or nihilistic. The book deals extensively with taboo subject matters such as drugs, sexual activity, violence, pedophilia and crime.

Read – Broken Radio (Novel)

Daunting Past

Good Morning Planet

Today we are going to talk about ‘Past’. Dictionary definition being – ”gone by in time and no longer existing.” It is important, to understand, past, as it’s an imperative variable in the equation of our lives. Throughout our lives, we mostly, see ourselves through our memories of the past.

Now, with the advent of science, it has been proven that memories are not at all a reliable source of information. We human beings deal with emotions in a very complicated manner. We keep things to ourselves and we say things, we do not mean. The society is mostly a cluster of people who either wish to lead or wish to be lead. The leader exercises control to experience gratification of power and the led ones cheerfully witness exploitation to experience gratification of a false sense of security.

Due to such restricted approach, we do not clearly remember anything. We either modify it, in terms that help us feel better. Or, we plainly choose to forget. So mostly, memories are a way, we repeat a lie to ourselves. The more we think about a past event, the more likely it is that, we start believing our own set of lies. We create these lies for temporary gratification. But revisits, by our subconscious, restores the profound clarity.

Hence, we do not remember the truth and act on false cluster of facts. This mostly sets us to experience personal failure.

Now, the remedy, is not to purely trust your instincts while indulging in defining, decision making. Your instincts are a stimuli response of your subconscious, based on your lies, hence it’s unreliable. Inviting suggestions is another way of being led. So, you cannot act on anyone’s suggestions. The only proven alternative to achieve success is by experiencing failure. Yes, I am saying – make mistakes!

The more number of times you would fail, the higher are the chances of success in your future attempts. Gear yourself up, for repeated failures, so that you live and learn in present and not follow your life’s past pattern of failures, you fail in a new manner, each morning, everyday, Fail! And then you might experience – Success.

Stop living in the past. To create a beautiful tomorrow, Die today!

Gun & Marriage licence!

Broken Radio

Nishant


Pillow talk is an essential bonding activity in a relationship. The less tenured is a relationship, the more impactful are pillow talks. It has been two years, now, since Dia and Nik moved in together but their love is still as potent, as it was, the first night. 

They make sure that the fire doesn’t burn down. Dia sits on Nik’s lap while he continues to shower her with nimble kisses. He loves licking her skin, with his tongue. He starts from her neck and continues going till her belly button, pauses for a second and then glides from her bellybutton to her thighs, till her toes.

‘Are you planning to eat me? You never get tired. Do you? You horny fuck,’ Dia says.
‘You can stop me, when, you want to. Why don’t you stop me?’ asks Nik.
‘I don’t want to.’

After burning some more calories Nik proposes, ‘Hey sweetie pie, we have been together for long and surprisingly, it’s working out, let’s get married.’
Dia gets surprised on hearing Nik talk about marriage.
You hate marriages,’ she enquires.
Yes, in principle, I do but I want to, spend the rest of my life, with you!’

You know, I can’t get married to a non-Muslim. It’s a sin for me,’ she states blatantly.

And what about this? Is this not a sin?’ he says while his hands, play, with her breasts. She moans in pleasure and whispers,

There are sins which can be forgiven and there are some which cannot. Sleeping with you makes me a sinner but I still would get forgiveness. Marrying a Kaffir is haraam. No forgiveness there
‘You and your beliefs, never made sense to me. You do know, you are twisting facts?’
How come you don’t believe in anything?’ asks Dia, in order to deflect.

‘I believe in nature. I do believe, in the universe. I believe in Kabir, Krishna, Mira, Jesus, Prophet but not as gods, as Rock stars. They were original Rock stars. They had long hair, their own bands, their original tunes; they had groupies, and they held concerts. I do believe in something and that is pretty straight. Not at all twisted!’

‘You and your beliefs never made sense to me,’ Dia says while biting him on his neck and they laugh.
They continue indulging in each other while Nik manages to convince Dia, that if it’s all the same to her, they should get married; If not a real one, then just, as an, interesting activity! ‘Let’s get married for fun!’
Nik pleads for hours, before, Dia agrees to take it as a fun activity and together they march to a registrar’s office. They dress fancy and enter the offices of  –                                                                                          ‘Gun & Marriage licence.’          

        They wait, there, for a while. Nik wore his happy face.
A clerk asks them to come to the desk.
‘Gun license would be ready in two hours. Marriage licenses take a week. What are you here for?’ asks the clerk.
I need a license,’ replies Nik.
Which model?
Oh no! I don’t need it for a gun. I need it to get married,’ says Nik.

The clerk looks at him, then looks at Dia, then looks at both of them and points his finger, towards few forms. ‘Fill these forms and come after a week!
Nik wanted to get married the same day.

I want this to be done by today’s evening. I can pay you extra, if that would help,’ he pleads. ‘I wish. Marriages, take time, my friend. Go for a gun instead. I would get you a licence by evening’ answers the clerk, sadly.

Dia looks at Nik, and they both burst into laughter. They leave, from that office and go to a nearby ice-cream parlour. 

Eating ice cream, together, is an essential bonding activity in a relationship. Nik loved vanilla and Dia loved strawberry. They order a two in one.


Source: Broken Radio(novel by Nishant). This book is not for those who believe in happily ever after tales. It’s brilliantly creepy, violent and extremely offensive in nature. It preaches a cult philosophy against an emasculating consumerist culture.

The story is a brilliant mix of transgressed elements held together by dirty realism. It focuses on characters who feel confined by the norms and expectations of society and who break free of those confines in unusual or illicit ways. Because they are rebelling against the basic norms of society, protagonists may seem mentally ill, anti-social, or nihilistic. The book deals extensively with taboo subject matters such as drugs, sexual activity, violence, pedophilia and crime.

Read Broken Radio – Novel

Untitled design (2)

Waterfalls – Revisiting The 90’s

“Waterfalls” , the hit 1994 Grammy nominated single was TLC’s hard hitting portrayal of how people chase intangible dreams without sparing a thought to the consequences of their actions. The words remain true even today.

Lisa-Lopes

A lonely mother gazing out of the window
Staring at her son that she just can’t touch
If at any time he’s in a jam, she’ll be by his side
But he doesn’t realize he hurts her so much
But all the praying just ain’t helping at all
Cause he can’t seem to keep his self out of trouble
So he goes out and he makes his money the best way he knows how
Another body laying cold in the gutter
Listen to me

The first verse of the song describes an inner city mother & son relationship. The mother knows he is chasing “waterfalls” (money and respect by dealing drugs), but worries for him because she is all too aware that the actions of his son cannot end well. She tries praying it all away but to no avail and so the helpless mother is in a painful place.

Don’t go chasing waterfalls
Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to
I know that you’re gonna have it your way or nothing at all
But I think you’re moving too fast

Little precious has a natural obsession for temptation
But he just can’t see
She gives him loving that his body can’t handle
But all he can say is, “Baby it’s good to me”
One day he goes and take a glimpse in the mirror
But he doesn’t recognize his own face
His health is fading and he doesn’t know why
Three letters took him to his final resting place
Y’all, don’t hear me

The second verse depicts a man’s relationship with a woman. His “waterfall” is casual sex – he has a “natural obsession for temptation.” This could mean he is cheating on someone or the woman he is seeing is cheating on someone. Either way, he contracts HIV and dies (“three letters took him to his final resting place”). As a matter of fact, TLC were big on AIDS awareness – Left Eye would often wear condoms attached to her clothes and in her glasses to promote safe sex.

img

What we talk, when we talk, about, Love! – Act II

Good Morning Planet

It’s a bright, sunny morning, here in the BrokenRadio Studios, and we bring you ACT II of

“What we talk, when we talk, about, Love!”

Act I – What we talk, when we talk, about, Love!


BrokenRadio Theaters present, to you, a play written by Khadija (You think You know) & Nishant (Broken Radio).

Act II – Begins,

( The stage is brightly lit with various performers dancing in the background. Nik is standing on the stage with few pages in his hand. He has, his reading glasses, on. The music fades away..performers continue dancing. Nik addresses the audience)

Curtains Rise!

(Crowd cheers. Loud Applause)

Understanding The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth

Nik : The title in itself, is enigmatic. The poetess is comparing two cosmic events. One being Eid and other falling in Love. The poetess talks about a confused and unsure kind of love, that is really rare and yet the most captivating. (He comes forward on the stage)  The protagonist to whom the poetess address as the ‘Dark Prince‘… is a great admirer of her and is madly in love with her. As much, as the poetess tries not to develop similar feelings, she does get smitten, eventually. Mostly, the poem talks about their secret encounters and exchange of words.. What poetess envies the most is when she experiences cosmic love, the Dark Prince is not their celebrating the rise in the sky; Eid.. As much as the poetess hates it, she’s willing to give him another chance as she too is hopelessly in love. (Nik throws the pages in air)
 But then again, who knows poetry.. It’s always, what’s not said, never, what is.

(Lights fade out. The background changes itself back to the Act I setting. Nik removes his reading glasses. Kate walks in)

Kate: Brilliant job. You scored an A. Although, it isn’t the true derivation entirely.

(Moves forward on the stage and addresses the audience)

Well, the rise in the sky and fall on the earth shows, how you take me high in the skies and then throw me down on the ground. I experience a bliss in a moment and in the next, you abandon me mercilessly. When the world spoke about us, You said; my destiny walked into my door. My pride and your ego clashed and doomed were we. Then one night we met again after your endless efforts of getting me back. And we celebrated the festival like it was the last Eid on earth. You said – it’s us against the world, give me time, cope with me.

(The stage fills itself with mystic silence. We could hear loud breathing.)

Nik: (murmurs slowly to himself) There was silence in the air. All three of us were breathing heavily. Me, her and Johnnie Walker. (Nik walks away from Kate and continues murmuring)  I am jealous of this Dark Prince, Kate dedicated a poem for him! (Looks at a picture of another women) The only lines she ever dedicated to me was – “I am nobody’s fool” and it took me weeks to understand, what it really meant.

Kate: Life was perfect!

Nik: (walks near Kate) Well, let me dedicate my prayers for your eternal, blissful, family stamped, first love. If this doesn’t see a happy ending, then love should, atleast, not be in dictionary and books should paint it black, with dark ink.

Kate: That’s so accurately put. This is not love, though! (pauses for a moment, looks lost in memories) I don’t know, what love is.. 

Nik: What is it, then? I have no clue, what love is! Truly, Sincerely, Please tell me.

(The performers swarm the stage and start dancing rigorously, there is no music, playing, in the background)

Kate: It’s hard to express. Maybe 10000 pages or maybe less! Why are you, so intent to know the definition of love?

Nik: I need to write about love and I have not, ever, experienced it. Hence the curiousity. I want to know, what love is!

Kate: (looks at him for a moment, lovingly, addresses the audience) Love is divine, it makes you experience the most extreme emotions that you were oblivious of. But it’s got one and only one rule; You have to forget self love and even if you can’t, have, your love, for yourself, forever, smile and be grateful for the memories and experiences. Love does not mean achieving. Love needs no labels, no possessions, no ownership. You welcome it’s arrival, with a smile, and then you let it go, with a smile. (looks at Nik and continues) So, If your fav doll is lost, don’t cry, rather cherish the moment you had with it and live life.

Nik: That does make a lot of sense, Miss. But, I need a clarification. I guess, in our lifetime, we experience love more than once. So is their something also called – True Love? Or it’s the same every time!

Kate: (addresses the audience) I don’t know, that’s an interesting question. According to me, love is just once, But that does not mean it seals your fate. You carry on and live life, settle for someone really charming, who makes you happy.

Nik: (looks at Kate) Would you care to know my thoughts? (Doesn’t wait for her response and continues, addresses the audience) To understand love, we need to understand time. (dancers in the background are not at all performing in sync, each artist seems to be following their own steps, the stage suddenly gets chaotic, lights flicker) 

There is past, present and future. Past is all memories and Future is entirely imagination. So, what matters is now! Present matters. Not what happened a moment ago, not what might happen next, No fear, no assumption, Just now – living in the moment. (Goes near Kate) What are you doing now? (she thinks, he doesn’t wait for her response and continues speaking to the audience) Right now…right fucking now…She is experiencing release of adrenaline and dopamine, look at her, how happy she seems (there is a sadness on Kate’s face) We are experiencing effects of tiny pills laced with love. (Nik comes to the edge of the stage and yells)

There is no absolute love. That is a cosmic event.. Barely happens.. I am trying to recreate, but still it takes ages.. This is day to day love.. What people call love, when they talk about love. What humanity needs to experience, is, Cosmic love. Feeling of being around even during absences.. Dreams.. Mutual dreams.. You communicate without words. You close your eyes and your partner feels you missing them…
Love is not necessarily both sided.. Moon and the sea try and hug each other, failing, every full moon night..When the moon is completely naked.. That’s the love I talk about. That’s the love I want to experience. I want to know what love is!

Kate: (holds his hand) Look at us, making a failed attempt at defining love..

(They both stare into each other eyes. Curtains Fall, Crowd goes crazy, Crowd whistles among the loud thud)

Play Ends.


Whoa! That was something. Huh? Let me make breakfast, she would be awake soon. You enjoy your friendly Tupperware! Have a nice day.

What we talk, when we talk, about, Love!

 

Good Evening Planet

It’s a lovely evening, indeed. There is a dazzling, shimmering, reason behind this love, in the evening. Yesterday morning, I released the first chapter of my 2nd book – Smokes & Strings – Boulevard of Broken Art. It’s a love story. A twisted one.

I had my doubts, because, what do I know? I, have, never been in love. I just experienced what television sold, not the books…the Television. I went out on dates in shopping malls, bought gifts and had sex. It did seem like love, back then. Now, I am a grown up. I no longer watch television. I only read books and I only talk to writers. And, I want to know what love is…..

I asked my friend, Khadija Fatima – Author of You Think You Know ,”Do you know, what love is?” She sent me a poem. The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth. But then we all know, we need to figure out ART. It’s always ”what’s not said” and never, ”what is”.

So, I made some failed attempts to understand it and finally gave up. I, then again, asked her to explain….And we both ended up writing this play….


Ladies and Gentlemen, Tonight’s entertainment is a play about love, loss, pride, humility and then, love, again. BrokenRadio Theatres Present, to you, a play written by Khadija (You think You know) and Nishant (Broken Radio) .

PicsArt_07-12-11.30.47

Act I – Begins,

Lift the curtains!

(Crowd Cheers, Loud applause, A remarkably thin male is sitting on a stool, in front of a stunningly beautiful female. They both are in their prime youth and seem very cheerful. The entire stage is lit with bright lights, with no gloominess in any corner, apart from, in the eyes of, both the protagonists)

Nik: How are we doing today, Kate. What are we doing?

Kate: Heya! Ahh been occupied. I had company. Now, was enjoying my alone time, and then you walked in and sat, there, right, on that stool.

Nik: Well, if anyone would have such a delightful company as you, blessed are those few.

Kate: Ain’t you guys just too nice.

Nik: Well, you pay me to be nice. I think, I should get at least twice the amount you pay me, because, of the time I invest in you . Your project, I mean!

Kate: Oh, I didn’t know, I pay you to be nice.

Nik: Yeah, a very unfair amount though but then there are other perks which I truly enjoy.

Kate: You are funny! (Sarcastically)

Nik:  I am serious, always. It’s, you, who somehow induce humor in my deadbeat words.
And I guess, glamor, too.

Kate: Yes, glamor, I agree cause I just love it. We’re both sarcastic.

Nik: I am not. Talk about yourself, Lady! (pauses, clears throat) You are the friendliest ‘client’, I ever had the pleasure to service. Never met someone with your potential, in this, big, bad, round, uneven, world. 

(A smiles spreads on Kate’s face and the black and white lights change to a rainbow)

And, that smile, That’s, what makes my days, and evenings, and someday, other periods of my long, lonely, lazy, mundane, days.

Kate: My goodness. I think, I’m done with compliments. 

Nik: (stammers) Oh, Okay, no more for today, then. (Pauses for a second. Dramatic music plays in the background, for a second. Music stops) Glad, I have nothing to say about your, yesterday’s picture. It just made me speechless.

Kate: (blushes) Oh, about that, I think, I was too happy yesterday since everyone loved my poem. So, hence the glow. (Comes closer, and whispers in his ears) Even, in the theatre people were staring madly. (Pulls her face back and continues talking). So, Yeah, partial credit goes to you for publishing it. And my makeup of course 😸 I love shimmer!

Nik: (Comes closer, and stares in her eyes) The stares were all for you, so, you deserve the credit. (lights go dim, girl bows down) Shimmer, loves, being on you. (pulls her closer) You think, you know, let me tell you something, Ignorance is bliss. 

icelandic-dance

(Lights are back. It’s just a white, bright light. Nik and Kate adjust their seats, the moment lights, change color. There is a chaotic silence on the stage. The background music is of an animal being choked to death. The music gets louder. Nik stands up. Kate pulls her chair farther away from him.)

Kate: (coldly, her voice comes from far to the audience) So, what could you make from the poem? 

Nik: (Addresses the audience) And the poetess wants to know… What, the commoner sees… Okay! 

(looks at her and continues)

Understanding, The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth ….

The stage drifts away from behind, from beneath, his feet. The background metamorphoses into an old, dusty, rusty, library. Kate exits the scene. Nik wears reading glasses. And the curtains fall…Crowd cheers..) 

ACT I – Ends


Hope, you guys enjoyed reading this, as much as we enjoyed writing. BrokenRadio would return with the second act, soon enough. Grab a smoke for now. Will ya!

Che Guevara : The New Man

Good Morning Planet

I am a big fan of prologue. But today, I choose to stay mum, cause today’s speaker says a lot, that changed a lot.

It is good to speak clearly….In order to conquer something we have to take it away from somebody….That something we must conquer — the country’s sovereignty  — has to be taken away from that somebody called monopoly….It means that our road to liberation will be opened up with victory over the monopolies…. The revolution has to be “radical,” and has to “destroy the roots of evil” that afflicts humanity in order to “eliminate injustice.” It is the revolution, and the revolution is the people….It is time to get onboard the new ship of state, or get off….The enemy might well retaliate…Together we will all be saved or we will sink….I think one has to constantly think on behalf of masses and not on behalf of individuals….It’s criminal to think of individuals because the needs of the individual become completely weakened in the face of the needs of the human conglomeration….Popular forces can win a war against any army….It is not necessary to wait for the conditions to be right to begin the revolution; we people can create them….Terrorism is valuable only when used to put to death some noted leader of the oppressing forces well known for his cruelty, his efficiency in repression, or for other qualities that make his elimination useful….The essence of real warfare is that each one the fighter..people..should be ready to die, not to defend an ideal but rather to convert it into reality….

Words like these are definitely better than any, fine, refined, roasted, soaked in honey, brazilian coffee bean, rich coffee. Stay charged, And remember…

We the people demand Free the people.

And here’s institutions discussing something very important…Pay a little attention to that as well –

Do they deserve prison with the hope that one day they can be useful to Society?

Noooo!

Should they be shot, as exemplary punishment to all future generations?

Yeeees!

09_guru__jpg_1358184g
Afzal Guru – Kashmiri Rebel

“As criminal acts took place pursuant to the conspiracy, the appellant, as a party to the conspiracy, shall be deemed to have abetted the offence. In fact, he took active part in a series of steps taken to pursue the objective of conspiracy.”

Supreme Court of India, Judgement on Appeal by Afzal Guru on August 5, 2005.

Have a lovely day ahead. Enjoy your Tupperware!

 

Junko Furuta

“It strikes me profoundly that the world is more often than not a bad and cruel place.” 
― Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

What’s the worst nightmare you’ve experienced in your lifetime?

Nothing can prepare you for the violence, torture, humiliation and gross maltreatment meted out to Junko Furuta at the tender age of just 17 years. The events that lead up to her death are so profoundly shocking that they can have but one of two instant reactions from someone, either utter disbelief or mind numbing shock. Her incessant torture and sexual abuse, that lasted 41 days was carried out by 4 teenaged boys, all under 17 years old themselves,  points to a disturbing reality,  that it doesn’t take a hardened criminal to subject another human being to cruelty, it just takes a criminal bent of mind. The violent streak in a person is not something that escalates from the first crime onward, it is rather a chance for him or her to act out on the need for carrying out violence that roots itself in their subconscious from what does seem to be a reasonably long time.

images

The atrocities inflicted upon Furuta seem to be from a script of a horror movie. Her ordeal began on the first day of her kidnapping, to last upto 44 days during which, she was subjected to all kinds of abuse imaginable. As per their own confession, the boys took turns raping her repeatedly for a total of over 400 times, fed her cockroaches & forced to drink her own urine. She was forced to masturbate, was burnt with cigarettes repeatedly, and was violated with foreign objects introduced in her vagina and anus.

106395942_o

Since she had gone missing suddenly, there was a clear danger of her parents getting worried and reporting the matter to the police, which could lead to a manhunt. To eliminate the possibility, the boys made her call her parents and tell them that she had she had left home and had gone away, but was with her friends and was safe.

The motive or reason behind the crime remains unclear.

On December 1, 1988, cruelty went several notches up, and Junko was severely beaten up a number of times. She was hung from the ceiling and was used as a punch bag. Her nose was filled by her own blood to the extent that she could only breathe through her mouth. When she was brought down from the ceiling, dumbbells were dropped on her stomach. The damage done to her internal organs was considerable, which is why she could not hold water inside despite being thirsty. When she asked for water and was given some to drink, she vomited it out almost as soon as she drunk it.

She also made an attempt to escape, but was caught and was punished by being burnt with cigarette butts. Inflammable liquid was poured on her arms and legs and she was set on fire for having tried to run away. Not just that; a bottle was also inserted up her anus causing injury.

concrete.2004.DVDRip.640x352.DivX520(099973)14-26-30

Ten days later, on December 10, 1988, when she could not walk properly due to severe burns on the legs, she was beaten up by bamboo sticks. According to some unconfirmed reports, fireworks were inserted in her anus and were lit. She was beaten up by golf clubs and her hands were smashed by weights used for exercising and her nails were cracked to inflict pain.

Ten days later, the boys poured hot wax on her face and her eyelids burnt by cigarette lighter, and she was not only stabbed with sewing needles in the chest region, but her left nipple was also clipped with a plier and destroyed. Due to the insertion of objects in her vagina, she bled heavily, and was unable to urinate properly. The injuries to her private parts were so severe that it took over half an hour to crawl downstairs to use the lavatory to urinate. Her eardrums were also severely damaged though there is not much clarity about the real cause of the damage.

_ÄÜÅ©¸®Æ®»ìÀλç°Ç

On the 40th day of her captivity, Junk virtually begged her abductors to kill her and end her unbearable suffering. But that was not to happen for another couple of days.

On January 4, 1989, the boys got furious over something and wanted to take it out on Furuta. They started hitting Furuta’s mutilated body with an iron barbell, and kept on until she started bleeding from her mouth. They also subjected her face and eyes to the flame of a candle. Thereafter, highly inflammable lighter fluid was poured on her arms and legs and she was set on fire alive. The fire was put out soon, but not soon enough to prevent injury; only soon enough to prevent immediate death.

Junko Furuta did not carry on any longer and died a couple of hours later the same day after suffering the unbearable agony for 41 days, which was further scaled up to the extreme in the final few hours of her life. Junko Furuta’s death was among the most painful individual deaths caused by human beings in the history of mankind.

On January 5, 1989, the boys filled a 55-gallon drum with concrete, dumped the dead girl’s body in the setting concrete. The drum was then cast away somewhere on the reclaimed land in Koto, Tokyo.

The boys were arrested, prosecuted and sentenced, but since they were juveniles at the time of committing the crime, the jail terms were lighter. They were sentenced to imprisonment ranging between four to seven years.

“Don’t you feel shame? I thought scum like you could at least feel shame” 
― Kohta Hirano

The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth

Good Evening Planet

An adrenaline junkie is somebody who engages in sensation-seeking behavior through “the pursuit of novel and intense experiences without regard for physical, social, legal or financial risk”. Such activities include extreme and risky sports, substance abuse, unsafe sex, and crime. The term relates to the increase in circulating levels of adrenaline during physiological stress.

Dopamine is another profound chemical. The effects of dopamine include increases in heart rate, body temperature, and sweating; improvements in alertness, attention, and endurance; increases in pleasure produced by rewarding events; but at higher doses agitation, anxiety, or even loss of contact with reality.  Stimulants such as nicotine, cocaine and methamphetamine promote increased levels of dopamine.

Only a handful of addicts are aware that ART induces a combination of both adrenaline and dopamine. This evening a dear friend of mine, Author – Khadija FatimaYou think You know, made me read one of her poems. Well, I am high on her words ; A perfect blend of two of the planet’s most profound chemical.

As much as I wanna save this drug for myself, I cannot deprive the world from such beautiful poetry. So, Ladies & Gentlemen, this terrific evening, Broken Radio presents you, an original poem by Miss Khadija Fatima!

art-boy-dreams-galaxy-Favim.com-3963062

“The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth

You beamed with wits when you saw me

A little gut feeling went unattended

Danced like a lunatic when we met

Made me reminisce an old love song in your red dodge

Table with Kebabs and Game of thrones

Surprised me with taste of India in a Pak lounge

Twice the dawn turned into dusk, then we met again

Flirted with flamboyance until I gave up

We flew away as written in the palms of time

Months passed with eternal nights filled with thrills

Planning and preparation, our palpations never halted

Then you came crossing the deep seas

When we met in the mist of frosty days

I set eyes on you and I knew you were mine

When the world asked our story, your lips moved radiantly

And the bliss I heard, “my destiny walked into my door”

How we loved our chilly walks full of joy and fear

Our confound natures created a havoc

And it all ended in sorrow and vague

Until the darkest night crawled back, we met again

I buttoned your sleeves and relived your skin

Humoured and ridiculed the world in good faith

The mighty Eid arrived, and it struck what I missed

We spoke the unheard words, us against the world

My quest with the dark prince, who said we still got time…  “

— Kate

9fae56f792a6c2ab2933e243e817cffe

 

The Crystal Ship

“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”
― Jim Morrison

1424762-7

 

“The Crystal Ship”

Before you slip into unconsciousness
I’d like to have another kiss
Another flashing chance at bliss
Another kiss, another kiss
2959143d73cb13202c805b5c9a5acccc

The days are bright and filled with pain
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane
We’ll meet again, we’ll meet again

Jaune-1200x800-©HenrikHaven-865x577

Oh tell me where your freedom lies
The streets are fields that never die
Deliver me from reasons why
You’d rather cry, I’d rather fly

7130670

The crystal ship is being filled
A thousand girls, a thousand thrills
A million ways to spend your time
When we get back, I’ll drop a line

— Morrison

I Could See The Smallest Things

I was in bed when I heard the gate. I listened carefully. I didn’t hear anything else. But I heard that. I tried to wake Cliff. He was passed out. So I got up and went to the window. A big moon was laid over the mountains that went around the city. It was a white moon and covered with stars. Any damn fool could imagine a face there.

There was light enough so that I could see everything in the yard – lawn chairs, the willow tree, clothesline strung between the poles, the petunias, the fences, the gate standing wide open.

But nobody was moving around. There were no scary shadows. Everything lay in moonlight, and I could see the smallest things. The clothespins on the line for instance.

I put my hands on the glass to block out the moon. I looked some more. I listened. Then I went back to bed.

But I couldn’t get to sleep. I kept turning over. I thought about the gate standing open. It was like a dare.

Cliff’s breathing was awful to listen to. His mouth gaped open and his arms hugged his pale chest. He was taking up his side of the bed and most of mine.

I pushed and pushed on him. But he just groaned.

I stayed a while longer until I decided it was no use. I got up and got my slippers. I went to the kitchen and made tea and sat with it at the kitchen table. I smoked one of Cliff’s unfiltereds.

It was late. I didn’t want to look at the time. I drank the tea and smoked another cigarette. After a while I decided I’d go out and fasten up the gate.

So I got my robe.

The moon lighted up everything – houses and trees, poles and power lines, the whole world. I peered around the backyard before I stepped off the porch. A little breeze came along that made me close the robe.

I started for the gate.

There was a noise at the fences that separated our place from Sam Lawton’s place. I took a sharp look. Sam was leaning with his arms on his fence, there being two fences to lean on. He raised his fist to his mouth and gave a dry cough.

‘Evening Nancy’, Sam Lawton said.

I said, ‘Sam you scared me.’ I said, ‘What are you doing up?’ ‘Did you hear something?’ I said. ‘I heard the gate unlatch.’

He said, ‘I didn’t hear anything. Haven’t seen anything, either. It might have been the wind.’

He was chewing something. He looked at the open gate and shrugged. His hair was silvery in the moonlight and stood up on his head. I could see his long nose, the lines in his big sad face.

I said, ‘What are you doing up, Sam? and moved closer to the fence.

‘Want to see something?’ he said.

‘I’ll come round’, I said.

I let myself out and went along the walk. It felt funny walking around outside in my nightgown and my robe. I thought to myself that I should try to remember this, walking around outside like this.

Sam was standing over by the side of his house, his pyjamas way up high over his tan-and-white shoes. He was holding a flashlight in one hand and a can of something in the other.

Sam and Cliff used to be friends. Then one night they got to drinking. They had words. The next thing, Sam had built a fence and then Cliff built one too.

That was after Sam had lost Mille, gotten married again, and become a father again all in the space of no time at all. Millie had been a good friend until she died. She was only forty-five when she did it. Heart failure. It hit her just as she was coming into their drive. The car kept going and went through the back of the carport.

‘Look at this,’ Sam said, hitching his pyjama trousers and squatting down. He pointed his light at the ground.

I looked and saw some wormy things curled on a patch of dirt.

‘Slugs,’ he said. ‘I just gave them a dose of this’, he said, raising a can of something that looked like Ajax. ‘They’re taking over,’ he said, and worked whatever it was that he had in his mouth. He turned his head to one side and spit what could have been tobacco. ‘I have to keep at this to just come close to staying up with them.’ He turned his light on a jar that was filled with the things. ‘I put the bait out, and then every chance I get I come out here with this stuff. Bastards are all over. A crime what they can do. Look here,’ he said.

He got up. He took my arm and moved me over to his rosebushes. He showed me the little holes in the leaves.

‘Slugs’, he said. ‘Everywhere you look around here at night. I lay out bait and then I come out and get them,’ he said. ‘An awful invention, the slug. I save them up in that jar over there.’ He moved his light to under the rosebush.

A plane passed overhead. I imagined the people on it staring down at the ground.

‘Sam’, I said, ‘how’s everybody?’

‘They’re fine,’ he said, and shrugged.

He chewed on whatever it was he was chewing. ‘How’s Clifford?’ he said.

I said, ‘Same as ever.’

Sam said, ‘Sometimes when I’m out here after the slugs, I’ll look over in your direction.’ He said, ‘I wish me and Cliff were friends again. Look there now,’ he said, and drew a sharp breath. ‘There’s one there. See him? Right there where my light is.’ He had the beam directed onto the dirt under the rosebush. ‘Watch this,’ Sam said.

I closed my arms under my breasts and bent over to where he was shining his light. The thing stopped moving and turned its head from side to side. Then Sam was over it with his can of powder, sprinkling the powder down.

‘Slimy things’, he said.

The slug was twisting this way and that. Then it curled and straightened out. Sam picked up a toy shovel, and scooped the slug into it, and dumped it out in the jar.

‘I quit you know,’ Sam said. ‘Had to. For a while it was getting so I didn’t know up from down. We still keep it around the house but I don’t have much to do with it anymore.’

I nodded. He looked at me and he kept looking.

‘I’d better get back,’ I said.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I’ll continue with what I’m doing and then when I’m finished, I’ll head in too.’

I said, ‘Good night, Sam.’

He said, ‘Listen.’ He stopped chewing. With his tongue, he pushed whatever it was behind his lower lip. ‘Tell Cliff I said hello.’

I said, ‘I’ll tell him you said so, Sam.’

Sam ran his hand through his silvery hair as if he was going to make it sit down once and for all, and then he used his hand to wave.

In the bedroom, I took off the robe, folded it, put it within reach. Without looking at the time, I checked to make sure the stem was out on the clock. Then I got into bed, pulled the covers up, and closed my eyes.

It was then that I remembered I’d forgotten to latch the gate.

I opened my eyes and lay there. I gave Cliff a little shake. He cleared his throat. He swallowed. Something caught and dribbled in his chest.

I don’t know. It made me think of those things that Sam Lawton was dumping powder on.

I thought for a minute of the world outside my house, and then didn’t have any more thoughts except the thought that I had to hurry up and sleep.

Source: Raymond Carver (1985) The Stories of Raymond Carver, London, Picador/Pan Books, pp.204-7


“What We Talk About When We Talk About Love” is not only the most well-known short story title of the latter part of the 20th century; it has come to stand for an entire aesthetic, the bare-bones prose style for which Raymond Carver became famous. Perhaps, it could be argued, too famous, at least for his fiction’s own good. Like those of Hemingway or any other writer similarly loved, imitated, parodied, and reviled, these stories can sometimes produce the sense of reading pastiche. “A man without hands came to the door to sell me a photograph of my house.” “That morning she pours Teacher’s over my belly and licks it off. That afternoon she tries to jump out the window.” “My friend Mel McGinnis was talking. Mel is a cardiologist, and sometimes that gives him the right.” What other writer ever produced first sentences like these? They are like doors into Carverworld, where everyone speaks in simple declarative phrases, no one ever stops at one beer, and failure or violence are the true outcomes of the American dream.

Yet these stories bear careful re-reading, like any truly important and enduring work. For one thing, Carver is one of the few writers who can make desperation–cutting your ex-wife’s telephone cord in the middle of a conversation, standing on your own roof chunking rocks while a man with no hands takes your picture–deeply funny. Then there is the sheer craft that went into their creation. Despite their seeming simplicity, his tales are as artfully constructed as poems–and like poems, the best of them can make your breath catch in your throat. In the title piece, for instance, after the gin has been drunk, after the stories have been told, after the tensions in the room have come to the surface and subsided again, there comes a moment of strange lightness and peace: “I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.”

Much of what happens in What We Talk About When We Talk About Love (1981) happens offstage, and we’re left with tragedy’s props: booze, instant coffee, furniture from a failed marriage, cigarettes smoked in the middle of the night. This is not merely a matter of technique. Carver leaves out a great deal, but that’s only a measure of his characters’ vulnerability, the nerve endings his stories lay bare. To say anything more, one feels, would simply hurt too much. –Mary Park

Smokes & Strings – Boulevard of Broken Art

maxresdefault.jpg

Good Morning Planet. My name is Nik. I think, I live and I write. Among all three, I like writing more.

This story is about three artists. The first being – Me, of course. I have to be in the story. After all, the story is, where, I am! My father never watched TV. I am the inquisitive kind. I wanted to ask him, “Why didn’t you enjoy television, like the million others who indulge in the magnificent human insight, offered by the men and women inside that glowing tube?”

I wrote him a letter from prison. Well, calling  my place of captivity, prison, would be lying, technically, ideally. But glad we do not live in an ideal, technical, world. No one needs to play by the rules. There is always a workaround.

So the story is about Me, Aisha and Karen.

maxresdefault (1).jpg

Part I – The Escape

“Dear Father,

Hope you are doing great. I am having a good time, here, in this wonderful institution which takes care of my mental health. I intend to stay here, till the institution which oversees the lawful conduct of people, wishes, me, to. In the end, it’s never about love. Society is about fairness and law. Everyone is a just being. Love is a lost cause.

The things we do, in the name of love. So low..So low!

Now marriages don’t happen. Corporate mergers are the new holy union of souls.

Anyways, I often wonder, here, alone, in darkness, why do you hate television so much? We all have a need of drama in our lives. Where did you find yours?

Do write back. I would wait eagerly!

Your’s truly,

Son”

Mulder_Scully_Prison_Demons.jpg

Thousands of persons must have said the same thing to him since, but Aisha happened to be the first in the line. Anyone likes to hear flattering sentiments, and more than others, I suppose, artists. They like to be told every hour of the day how well they use their creativity.

Part II – Aisha

I reached the house at a run and rested a while in the lobby to regain my breath. I went in, brushing back my hair with my hand and composing my features. The door was open. As I entered, I heard her voice –

You are early! What took you so long?

She looked both sad and profound. I sat down on a stool near her.

“You are alone. I suppose, I should not stay long.”

She choose neither to acknowledge nor answer.

I looked at my watch. She had been away from him for nearly 8 hours. I was wasting time. Time was slipping through my fingers. If I were to make good, I should utilize this chance.

Hank-and-Karen-hank-and-karen-12268085-2048-1365

“Every night you generally sit up and cry, do you?” I asked boldly.

“When we are alone and start talking, we argue and quarrel over everything. We don’t agree on most matters, and then he leaves me alone and comes back and we are all right, that’s all.”

“It’s unthinkable that anyone should find it possible to quarrel or argue with you. You look like a smile machine for poor, tortured, souls. You are such a divine creature, even colors cannot paint, your reflection.”

She asked sharply, “What do you mean?”

I explained myself plainly. I was prepared to ruin myself today if need be, but I was going to talk and tell her. If she wanted to kick me out, she could do it after listening to me. I spoke my mind. Somehow, whenever we speak, time froze. Time became as slow as a tree falling in the forest.

Aisha lives at the Vista Regency, which is nothing but brown bricks held together with sleaze, where all the mattresses are sealed inside slippery plastic covers, so many people go there to die. You sit on any bed the wrong way, and you and the sheets and blanket slide right to the floor.

“Why did you marry at all?” I asked recklessly.

She remained moody and said, “I don’t know. It just happened. I guess, LOVE.”

People always talk about love. Everyone does. Whenever I hear, “Love”, Raymond’s voice echoes in my head.
“and it ought to make us feel ashamed when we talk like we know what we’re talking about when we talk about love. All this, all of this love we’re talking about, it would just be a memory. Maybe not even a memory. Am I wrong? Am I way off base? Because I want you to set me straight if you think I’m wrong. I want to know. I mean, I don’t know anything, and I’m the first one to admit it.” 
― Raymond Carver, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love”

CALIFORNICATION (Season 3)

 

I see love as a cosmic event that changes the course of our lives. True selfless love, obviously, contrary to what is currently sold by popular media ; Where love is found online via matrimony websites on the virtues of income. That’s our institution of marriage. The Holy union of souls. She also has a piece of paper validating her love for him.
A piece of paper is what is needed for two people to stay in love. – Society
Things we do, in the name of Love, so low…so low!
I sighed deeply, overcome with the sadness of her life. I placed my hand on her shoulder and gently stroked it. “I am really very unhappy to think of you, such a gem lost to the world. In his place I would have made you a queen of the world.” She didn’t push away my hand. I let it travel and pushed my fingers through the locks of her hair.
Next day she visited my studio. She opened the – door, passed in, and hesitated, leaving the door half open. She stood looking at me for a moment, as on the first day.
960.jpg
If you really unite with your soulmate, you are doomed! Because you both would sit and talk and that is it. Now love is sex, money and revenge. An eternal revenge inflicted by two partners on each other for the sheer reason; they were not supposed to be together. Else time would freeze and it’s just that moment. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t wake up, you don’t breathe, You just look into each other eyes and float in the space. You experience Nirvana, a state even the most potent opioids fail to induce.
She went in the resident artist’s bedroom and closed the door. She came out after a short while. She had taken off all her ornaments. She didn’t have gold rings in her ears, no gold chain hung around her neck, her arms were empty, her alms were empty. Apart from the tiny piece of silk cloth, covering her modesty, she did not have anything that she ever called hers. I could see her naked image, that slender frame, it must have took, God, six days to create her. On the seventh day, he created the world. That explains her divine beauty and this filthy world.
I stood up, held her neck, as I gently pushed her towards the bed, out of the way, and stepped in and locked the door on the world.
maxresdefault
Things we do, in the name of Love, so low…so low!

 

screenplay-the-end.png

to be continued….as the show must go on….. Have a lovely day ahead!

 

 

 

Women Need More!

​#womenneedmore
The dumbest trending hashtag on the internet yet!
And it’s come into existence because of an advertising campaign coming from the house of Bianco Footwear and it’s premise is,

Equal pay is not enough,women need more!

First of all, unequal pay or the pay gap is an over used , beaten to death feminist talking  point which is not taken seriously by anyone because every economist in the world rejects the conclusions of studies that are conducted around this , simply because it has been concluded via research that  women make different choices than men when it comes to work life balance, deal with it.

Also, those that say there arnt enough women CEOs must acknowledge the fact that there arnt many women sewage cleaners and sanitation workers either…but i guess feminists want equality in all the glamorous, fun stuff.

And lastly, this ridiculous, feminist propaganda video suggests that it’s more expensive just being a woman so women deserve more pay than men! Imagine the outrage if this was a campaign for men!
Even so, this is twisted beyond words.

First of all, it is a CHOICE to wear expensive underwear, you can’t afford it? Don’t! There’s cheaper garments available too you know, that for your pocket, your employer is under no obligation to support your lifestyle choices!

And if you desperately want an expensive thong, how about you work overtime and EARN it ????


Stop begging for more lest people stop taking women seriously. 


Feeble Men – Brave Women

Feeble Men – Brave Women

 

Good Morning Planet

Recently, I have started inviting people to the Broken Radio Studios for brainstorming sessions. Broken Radio has always proudly proposed a different view of outlook towards most pressing issues. As a generalization, society is only aware of two prime base colors. Black and White. The masses are always surrounded by a clouded reality of right and wrong. The masses are extremely polarized. Either they would find an action right and endorse it or they would brand an action incorrect and shun it. Most of the intellectuals fail to acknowledge an important concept, which is also cherished by universe –

Right and Wrong was never the protocol of the day. There are actions followed by consequences. Beyond the shades of right and wrong there’s a shade, we call it grey. The entire universe clad in dazzling lights and shimmering darkness is one complemented shade of Grey.  

Now whenever Broken Radio comes up with a new conceptualized theory backed by strong reasoning, driven by a logical approach, rich with non-biased, true facts, we make sure that we introduce it to the select few and get approval after a thoughtful debate which doesn’t involve name calling and yelling. After the theory/concept is approved by our select panel of intellectuals, we then roll it out for the masses, undiluted.

Today we are going to talk about missing valor in men and overwhelming bravery in women.

A dear friend of mine and founder of Fight Club – Tyler Durden once said –

We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.

Tyler shared his views 18 years ago. We all agreed and gave him an overwhelming approval.

In the past 18 years, a lot has changed. Today Broken Radio would like to edit Tyler words to make it more suitable as per the modern times. We are positive Tyler would agree with us. We say –

We’re a generation of men constantly saved by women. We are saved by our mothers. We are shielded by our sisters. Our lovers help us dream. Our partners groom us to achieve. Our daughters love us and we hate ourselves. I’m wondering if we deserve any women.

abramovich-rhythm

To further elaborate let’s observe this small social interaction –

Hamsa, is a country head of a reputed Financial institution based in one of the richest countries. Hussain is also employed by the same institution. Hamsa is an extremely talented, goal-oriented, confident, successful yet loving female. Everyone passively desire her. Some mask it as an admiration, others as love, few as lust too but in the end every man wants her. Hamsa is a kind-hearted woman and she wants to help people like every other decent human being. Hamsa is also an extremely confident person with no self-esteem issues. She toiled hard, fought corporate wars and emerged a winner.

But, (as we all know, there is always a but lurking around), like every other woman, Hamsa also has a need to love, to be loved, to talk, to be spoken to, to be heard. Karen is Hamsa’s best friend. Karen is a wonderful woman. I am in love with Karen and I know that I know her better than anyone else. Karen is a great listener. Karen loves Hamsa and tries to fulfil her every emotional need. That is what friends do. They take care of your emotional needs but in the end, Karen is a woman. She is not a man. We are technically wired to spend the most passionate moments of our lives with the opposite sex. (Homosexuals, you are another blog, another day, today just go away.)

Hussain is an attractive person. I highly doubt his sincerity towards his work but Hamsa always praises it. So, due to lack of proper evidence, let’s agree that Hussain is also hard-working. Let’s just add a fucking fake badge on his tainted uniform. Anyways Hamsa, due to lack of better, deserving men decides to go out on a dinner date with Hussain after he pesters her for multiple months.

Here’s what happens –

(Waiter approaches Hussain)

Waiter: May I get the order?

(Hussain directs the waiter towards Hamsa.)

Hamsa: I would take a meze, rich in white cheese and sliced melon. Please make sure that you do not use hot pepper paste. Stash the walnuts towards the sides and the yogurt should not be more than 6 hours old. Bring an Arak now and one followed after the meal. That would be it.

Waiter: Thanks ma’am.

(Waiter looks at the spineless guy.)

What would you like to order sir?

(Hussain is sweating like a pig. His legs are shaking badly. A tiny drop of his stinking sweat rolls down from his forehead, along his crooked nose, bounces on his twisted lower lip and drops into his glass of water. Hussain picks his glass of water and drinks it in one large sip.)

Hussain: I would take a Butter Naan with Afghani Chicken.

The waiter walks away.  

  It’s been three years since that night. Hamsa heard all his unbelievable stories. Hamsa believed in all of them. Yesterday, he told a rather believable story and Hamsa brushed it off in disbelief.

c8c82c0bf99d27177f022b758608da81_783x0

Karen, love of my life, told me that Hussain confessed being married. Seems like Hussain had a memory issue. All the three years he exploited Hamsa’s innocence, tainted her soul, crushed her spirits, lied, cheated, he never remembered that he was married. Today he wishes to leave his job and go back to his wife. Hussain got some terrible memory issues.

Anyways, Sister Hamsa is devastated. My lover Karen is devastated. I know how wonderful and selfless women are, so, witnessing their pain, I am devastated.

Ideally our society doesn’t endorse views of revenge, hatred, aggression. Ironically, we are brave men who wage war on an annual basis. We indulge in hi-tech war equipment and very bravely use our chip powered drones and kill innocent people. That’s an extremely difficult act of bravery. Flying battery powered weapons is the new art of war.

People lost their bravery when Vikings vanished from the planet. The last recorded brave men were the Vikings. They went to wage war to go to Walhalla. They went to war, either to die or to kill. In both the cases an eternal fulfilling experience of soul. Now people find such thoughts crazy. What I find crazy is few snipers calling themselves patriots killing innocent people in the name of country and the country would then proudly honor them as great warriors. I guess that’s where Broken Radio and the world have an objective disagreement of philosophy.

f4ba5ab0fb9b2990eb87993e16252e8f

Now Hamsa is devastated and so is Karen. I am outraged. I do not like my sister and my lover upset because of a spineless, coward, lying, piece of shit. I either like someone or I hate them. If I have enough valid reasons to hate someone, that person often lands in knee-deep trouble. So, Hussain is done for this life.

There were days in the past, KGB agents used to call Moscow for help. Mostly Moscow would not help. Spies need to deal with their shit, on their own. Moscow would mostly say –

“Moscow is silent.

Today morning, I called Moscow. Moscow wasn’t silent. Moscow is outraged. Hussain needs to pay. Moscow wants justice for sister Hamsa. Few clicks on a laptop, in a cyber cell by a truth activist is what it takes to disable someone’s life permanently. I feel no sympathy for Hussain. Cowards have no place in a just world. Broken Radio is fighting for a just world. Few sacrifices are needed, few extreme examples need to be fed.

I just wanted to advise Sister Hamsa, (hope she won’t consider it meddling) –

Feeble Men cannot compliment Brave Women. Think before you choose your partner.

Have a wonderful day People. Keep on lying, cheating and whoring, after all it’s not an ideal world.

It’s just a blatant scam. A great con!

 

 

UNSPOKEN LOVE

Dear Karen,

When I met you, I knew, I would never have to listen to Rocket Man again. but I guess no one knows anything. I am again sitting with an empty bottle and listening to it. I guess that completes the loop. The strange part about us is we never say, yet we always say it. I have no clue why are we doing this pointless activity. I would never say it. It’s disrespectful. You, even if you want to, cannot. I just hope you realize this is for you. And it has always been you. All the twists and turns led me to you because you are the one.

The irony is everyone else knows it but no one would ever say.

Anyways not everything can be said. I wish words were so powerful but they aren’t.  There is also a language beyond words, I guess, I have communicated using that, enough. I just want you to know. It’s always good to know. But don’t tell anyone. Not even me.

And here’s what Hank asked me to tell you –

Dear Karen,
If you’re reading this, it means I actually worked up the courage to mail it, so good for me.
You don’t know me very well, but if you get me started I have a tendency to go on and on about how hard the writing is for me. But this, this is the hardest thing I ever had to write.
There is no easy way to say this so I’ll just say it, I met someone. It was an accident, I wasn’t looking for it, I wasn’t on the make it was a perfect storm, she said one thing, I said another and the next thing I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation. Now there’s this feeling in my gut that she might be the one.  She’s completely nuts in a way that makes me smile, highly neurotic, a great deal of maintenance required. She is you Karen.
That’s the good news. The bad news is that I don’t know how to be with you right now, and that scares the shit out of me. Because if I am not with you right now I have this feeling we’ll get lost out there. It’s a big bad world full or twist and turns and people have a way of blinking and missing the moment. The moment that could have changed everything.
I don’t know what’s going on with us and I can’t tell you why you should waste a leap of faith on the likes of me. But damn you smell good, like home and you make excellent coffee that’s got to count for something, right? Call me!
Unfaithfully yours,
Hank Moody

 

We the People demand Free the People

** The views expressed in this article are of an Individual. Government doesn’t endorse such views. They do not mind people being slaves. BrokenRadio does **

There’s blood in the streets, it’s up to my ankles
She came
Blood in the streets, it’s up to my knee
She came
Blood in the streets in the towns around
She came
Blood on the rise, it’s following me
Think about the break of day

She came and then she drove away
Sunlight in her hair 

                                                 –Peace Frog

Good Morning Planet

Rain does push the morning bio-alarm away. I always make sure to wake up early. Early bird catches the worm. In a filth-rich society, someone got to give up on grabbing desserts and take the pains to catch the worm. I don’t mind menial jobs. Work is worship. So, I catch worms.

Today morning I was interacting with a fan, (I personally prefer the term friend) who belongs from Kashmir. She had the pleasure of witnessing years of tyranny. I wish, I too was that lucky. Witnessing political and social tyranny, first-hand is an extremely enriching and soulful experience. She is blessed. God bless her soul. God bless her family. She was sharing her agony about her little brothers, who were badly hurt by a state backed oppressive force.

I guess all of us have agreed on my views, that a self-aware state/society/system which stems out and breeds on a principle of self-indulgence cannot work selflessly for the self-interest of the people. To elaborate –

  • Your Government is a failed state.
  • Your Society is a failed organization.
  • Your Beliefs are a failed system.
  • Your Armed Forces are failed assailants.
  • Your Media is a failed tube.
  • Your Soul is a failed institution.
  • You are a failed experiment.

My Radio, though it’s Broken, still airs.

Now in this failed mindset, we end up agreeing to failed concepts.

“Get a job. Go to work. Get married. Have children. Follow fashion. Act normal. Walk on the pavement. Watch TV. Obey the law. Save for your old age. Now repeat after me: I am free.”

We are in a state of constant surveillance. This surveillance is then used to create propaganda that is wrapped in religious content and then weaponized for brutality against humanity to fulfill Political agendas. The Prime goal of the campaign being:

“Seasoned Subjugation of Mind!”

This is the ultimate tag-line endorsed by your governments across the blue dot, floating in the space, in an infinite universe, brightly lit with lights and fairly rich with darkness.

We are in a state of encouraged vigilantism. This vigilantism is then used to induce terror propaganda which is wrapped in fear and then weaponized for mass slavery to fulfill corporate agendas. The Prime goal of the campaign being:

“Autonomous Subjugation of the Mind”

In an era, where consciousness should be floating around, we the people walk proudly, in a state of deep sleep which is pleasantly masked as waking dream that is perceived as reality due to flawed sense of reasoning.

But the people wake up. They always do. Today or tomorrow or in the centuries later to come, an awakening is inevitable. Today I woke up late but when I looked out the window, I saw an awakened mass. After a very long span of time, I witnessed rising.

Ayat from Kashmir demanded freedom and I would help her attain it.

We the people demand Free the people.

Freedom of Mind. Freedom of Soul. Freedom of thoughts. Freedom to choose goals.

And it’s so easy to be free. It’s just a two-step process.

  • We pick up a pen.
  • And we keep writing about the truth, just the truth, only the truth.

No one needs to get out of their homes. No one needs to flood the streets. No one needs to yell. No one needs to scream. Hell, you do not even need to talk.

Just Write! Write about the injustice you witness! Write about the brutality you experience! Write about the extents of exploitation you are subjugated to!

Write about the Truth!

We the people will flood the streets with letters addressed to the establishment. The drains would clog with molten pulp and would burn the unjust system. We the people would ignite a cleansing fire and burn this crippled disassociated oppressive system and  We the people then would Free the people.

A pen and a paper is the only medicine crafted for this epidemic!

The first revolution is the revolution of the mind wherein you agree to at least the concept of tolerance for a different point of view. A view which you have never been shown before. A view which every great or evil person agreed to.

Be it murderer Escobar or the benevolent Teresa.

Writing letters is the only real art of war!

To achieve a permanent state of peace, let’s give way to a temporary state of unrest.

Let’s get out of our cozy couch and get in the library. Let’s write slogans. No stones needed. No bullets required. Just a pen and a brave heart.

We the People demand Free the People.   

#notinmyname

#wethepeople #demand #freethepeople @brokenradiocreatives

Have an Excellent Sunday. Happy Shopping.

Being A Woman In A Man’s World

A lot has been said about men & their power dynamics in the corporate world. Power is corrupting & it takes a man of great character & a higher moral threshold than most to not exploit people when you’re in a position to. But why do we obsess over the exploiter & forget to address the people on the receiving end? I know when it comes to sexual exploitation, men & women are almost equally at risk for becoming the object of some corporate psychopath’s unwanted affection but because I am a woman, I want to TALK TO THE WOMEN.

MaleBoss-amanda@amandarose.com_.au_1-660x400

Let’s start with the word ‘compromise‘. I am not sure why is the seeking of & complying with demands for sexual favors termed as a compromise in most scenariosIs it the man who is lowering his standards of taste in women when he chooses to share himself with a woman suffering with such low self – esteem or is it the woman who is ‘compromising’ by letting herself get abused in this way by a man who thinks nothing more of her than a sexual conquest? I believe, in popular culture, the word is used to describe a corporate version of prostitution. That’s right woman. You’re not compromising, you’re prostituting. Think about it. A prostitute sleeps with men in an arrangement devoid of mutual respect & affection in exchange for money. She sleeps with the occasional politician or policeman for no charge but in exchange for survival & continuing to function in her line of business. And lastly, sometimes, she sleeps with the pimps so they help her raise in the ranks. Now do me a favor & replace the words prostitute with ‘female employee’ & the words depicting men in positions of power with ‘boss’. That’s you. It’s the ONLY difference. A twist of words. I hope this makes you realize the FACT that this is no compromise. Do not make the folly of letting yourself off that easy.

boss

Now, let’s explore the reasons for this kind of a dehumanizing arrangement. The reasons for the exploitative asshole are simple. He is a man who obviously suffers from deep rooted self-esteem issues, is egoistic, a tad bit sadistic & feels that the only way he can make himself feel powerful is by rendering others powerless. What about you? Well, you suffer from low self – esteem too & lack confidence in your  capabilities & feel this is the only way you can rise the corporate ladder. Either that or you’re just plain lazy. You know it’s the easy way out. Some of you would say you have personal reasons for not wanting to leave the organization because you are very ‘majboor’ (destitute). ‘Majboor’ for what? Think. What’s the worst thing that you would probably have to do if you leave this job? Join another organization? Work from scratch in a new place? You can’t find another company that’s an equally good paymaster?

While I was working with Intelenet Global Services, one of my fist trysts with the corporate world, I did experience a situation like this first hand. The Operations Manager for the Healthcare process I was an associate in was notorious for his ‘deep interest in female employees’. He was a God in his own mind, at least that’s the feeling you got if you stole a glance across the busy operations floor over to the area divided by glass walls, the place where he seated himself, legs spread wide apart, a sly grin on his face. There was something about him that made your stomach churn. You do get awestruck with these people. I for one, was in awe of his sheer audacity. He had turned around a lot of careers thanks to his ‘feedback’ & ‘grooming sessions’. I was 22, fresh out of my first job, had heard a few corporate horror stories but never imagined something like this could be soon coming my way. My TL, walked up to me one day as I was busy chattering away to glory with one of my friends. I stashed away my bag of chips as we were not allowed to eat on the ops floor, but who cared about that! I only cared about the torturous monologue my TL would subject me to if caught. Usually, he would start his infamous monologue on floor hygiene as I would be wiping my hands but this time he had a grin on his face. A grin of amusement, almost. ‘A**r has called you. He wants to speak with you, just walk over to his bay”. I wasn’t sure what this was about. Did I process a claim incorrectly? Has he received a complaint? Have I screwed compliance? Why is my TL not talking to me about this? Why is he not accompanying me? I was very nervous as I approached the man I had previously only said ‘Hi’ to on occasion.

“You look nervous…relax, here, have a seat”

I parked myself in one of the chairs lying around his desk & thus began one of the most confusing conversations I had ever imagined to be a part of.

“Isha, I am not going to beat around the bush! I really like young talent & my vision for this process is to take it to another level altogether. I want to see everyone do well. Especially women under my wing. I feel women must be provided equal opportunities of growth as men are you with me on that?”

Who wouldn’t be? I nodded my head, grateful, that it’s not compliance, wanting very much to head back to my bag of chips.

“I see great potential in you in fact, I give your example in huddles because you come across as someone with great leadership potential”

Oh okay, I thought. Kept nodding. I also think very highly of myself, thank you.

“So what I have decided for you is, I am going to invest some time in you & groom you personally & believe me Isha, before you even realize what’s happening, you would be leading this team”

I had to intervene at this point to bring forth a crucial concern, “Sir I am not a graduate, I couldn’t complete my graduation for personal reasons but I am pursuing it, so I think that’s going to be a problem”

Boss-Lady1

“Don’t be silly Isha! You think I can’t handle something as basic as this? It’s irrelevant. My only concern is , office hours are too busy. I can’t hamper business by pulling out people when they should be generating numbers, but at the same time, I do want to groom you, so tell me what can we do about this”

The ball was left in my court. “I can extend my shift for an hour sir, that’s not a problem”

Apparently, that’s not the answer he was looking for. “I am strictly against employees extending their working hours, I mean you have a family, you have a life too! Do you think we can meet outside of work at some point”

I thought about it, but it seemed too boring. I mean I was desperate for this to end right there, the mere thought of this conversation lingering on with this uninteresting man was too much for young me to bear. I thought about all the fun things I could do instead of spending time with him & said no.

“Sir I meet my parents every weekend, I make it a point to visit my family so that would not be possible”

He was quite for the longest two minutes of each of our lives.

Finally, he regained composure, “To build careers, you have to compromise your time. I have big dreams for you, but am disappointed to hear this lack of drive in your tone. Don’t you want to grow? Tell me, when are we meeting?”

“Sir, I will have to think about this, I mean I am really thankful to you for being so considerate however, I wasn’t prepared for this at all. I was under the impression that you are going to ask me to leave, TBH, because of something I did wrong from a processing perspective. Allow me some time please”

And so he did, with a deadline. My friend was shifting in her seat uncomfortably & my TL grinning stupidly when I waltzed back to my seat. “Glad that’s over” There’s always a ‘mummy friend’ in any team you’re a part of who wants to know about you’re day, you’re ups and downs and be there for you even if you don’t want it. But in this case I did, because I couldn’t wrap my head around why this chap was so interested in seeing me grow…“It’s not like he’s my dad” I joked.: Papa hi ban gaya tha yaar! Full on daddygiri! I want to see you grow ye hai vo hai kya hai bhai???

My mummy friend broke it down to me. And I was FURIOUS. “Aukaat dekhi hai apni?” Those were my first words. “He’s decided to play doll with the wrong person. Abhi HR main e-mail karti hun” Mummy friend asked me not to because he had not directly implied ANYTHING. We were assuming this conversation for what it was because we knew what kind of a man he is. There has never been a complaint against him in the past & he hasn’t said anything that can’t be twisted one way or the other. You will become the laughing stock or the troublemaker if you press it too much & will have to quit your job. So it was decided that I was going to ignore this guy completely. Not that I noticed him much or gave him much attention in the first place, but I was supposed to ignore his advances. He tried playing nice.He sent me a birthday wish which I ignored. And that pissed him off. By that time, it had been almost a month that he was trying to display how easy he could make my life at work by instructing my TL to give me special, unwarranted exceptions etc.Now, he wanted to demonstrate the opposite. When sweet dreams of a bright future weren’t working, he decided the threats of a nightmare would.

Suddenly I couldn’t be a minute late, I couldn’t extend my break by 5 minutes, I had to extend my shift even though I hate doing that, so on & so forth. So what, I thought, this is any day better than having to sleep with that clown. You have to weigh your choices & prioritize. Of course, this had to escalate because now his ego was bruised & his groin was bearing the brunt for it. Suddenly, I was summoned by my TL to tell me that there was a compliance issue in a claim I had processed. Now, I must admit, it was processed incorrectly. I mean, when you’re taking a hundred calls a day or processing hundreds of data file a day, just how difficult is it for somebody to pick out that bunch of calls that could potentially destroy your career in that company? Not very difficult. He did just that. I knew what this was. Now it was about survival & believe me, I was very ‘majboor’.

So what did I decide to do? Play right in his hands???

Remember I said, in a process where you’re taking a hundred calls a day, it’s not that difficult to find that ONE call that can destroy your career in that company? Isn’t that true if you turn the tables? I mean, I don’t know if you notice this, but your bosses DO NOT own the company. Your potential molester is probably a small pawn in the bigger game himself and just as vulnerable as you. A TL, Manager, Director is actually just a dog who wags his tail around the top honchos of the organization. And to them, business is very dear. And in a business where you’re managing 10 – 12 different teams comprising of 10 – 25 people each, how difficult is it to find that ONE malpractice, that can ruin HIS career in the company? How difficult is it to find that ONE person, who holds a grudge against him? Not very. That’s what I did. Cigna  was a team that was very dear to his heart. Because Cigna drove numbers & we all knew how. It took just ONE E-mail with evidence of screenshots backed by 5 other people testifying against him to shatter his ambitions of playing God. Suddenly, there were quality checks run on Cigna. Suddenly there were scrutiny sessions with the team. Suddenly, he had to resign.

Ladies, God helps those who help themselves. It wouldn’t be a cliche if it weren’t true.

Weigh your options & prioritize. And believe in yourself. You are worth more than a thousand male egos put together. Be a WOMAN in a man’s world.

meryl

 

 

 

Pahlaj Nihlani : Chronicles Of A Fool

Greetings!

For those of you who don’t know who he is, Pahlaj Nihlani is the current Chairman for the Central Board Of Film Certification in India. This man gets to decide what we can watch, as a country, when we head to the movies or nestle in our lazy chairs at home in front of the idiot box. And he’s serious about his sanskaars. So serious that in a country that’s 1.2 billion strong & counting, where child marriage is still a reality, where children are raped irrespective of their gender, caste or social strata, he feels we’re not ready to hear the word ‘Intercourse’ on screen yet! The word that I last read 14 years ago in my biology textbook while preparing for my class 10 boards & which got replaced by the word ‘fuck’ as soon as I started college! Thta’s the word he has a problem with & wants beeped out in the new SRK movie, ‘When Harry Met Sejal’. Besides, Mr Nihlani has been a producer in the Indian film industry many moons ago & we all know…that his movies never had the word intercourse in them! Because I have just had breakfast, I do not wish to think about Nihlani’s movies or their sexual innuendos or even the double meaning lyrics because of obvious reasons.

 

And he not only has a problem with ‘intercourse’, he seems to have a problem with anything that is inherently ‘female’. Case in point, when he banned the movie ‘Lipstick Under My Burkha’ from being screened in India, here’s what was told to the film maker of this movie as to why the movie was banned

“The story is lady oriented, their fantasy about life. There are continuous sexual scenes, abusive words, audio pornography and a bit sensitive touch about one particular section of society, hence film refused.”

pic-437x222

Obviously, that remark is ridden with more problems than just poor sentence construction & grammar! Anyhow, the makers of the movie went on to get the movie cleared for a theatrical release in India after the country’s Film Certification Appellate Tribunal (FCAT), decided that the film can be issued an adult certificate, equivalent to an NC-17 rating.

burkha

Even before this fiasco, he tried meddling with director/producer Anurag Kashyap, while his movie ‘Udtaa Punjab’ was due to release but fortunately or unfortunately, that controversial & fantastic movie got accidentally ‘leaked’ on you tube, much to the delight of the nation & Mr Nihlani went biting the curb then too!

udtapunjab-1464783260

By this point, I can understand how he would have been feeling powerless & as we all know, desperate times lead to desperate measures & so, in a bid to redeem himself, Mr Nihlani prepared a strategy.

  1. Aim low. Target a word rather than an entire movie. That way, movie makers would give in without much of a fight & Nihlani would get to feel powerful. A little.
  2. Chose an SRK movie for maximum impact.

jab-harry-met-sejal_149733535720 (1)

It was all going according to the ‘plan’ when suddenly, he was asked a question by a reporter from a New channel called Mirror Now as to why did he have an objection to the word intercourse? This is what he had to say

“You take voting from the public and I will clear the word (intercourse) on the promo and the film also. I want 1 lakh votes and I want to see that India has changed and Indian families want their 12-year-old kids to understand the meaning of this word (intercourse).”

Now, Mirror Now’s Prime Time debates are hosted by an extremely rational, level headed journalist who hasn’t lost touch of reality or her sense of humour & so, in the right spirit, she, Faye D’Souza, accepted the challenge thrown by Mr Not-So-Smart & was able to gather much more than just 1 lakh votes. And I must say, she didn’t need to put in much of an effort either. Mr Nihlani, are you insane? What did I say our country’s population was? More than 1.2 billion. How many votes did you ask for? 1 lakh. All we had to do was send out a tweet to SRK’s 25 million followers on twitter and the ones who were stuck in traffic at that hour were able to accomplish the task!

faye

What ensued was a laughter riot. It’s alright to fail now & then, but you can easily & gracefully redeem yourself by accepting defeat & stating that the people have spoken & I respect the verdict. But NOOOOOOO It’s a fool we’re talking about here. He has mastered the art of humiliating himself in full public view by now & so not only did he refuse to answer any question posed to him by a rather polite journalist who cornered him in elevator, but he even ended up looking like a nincompoop on National Televion!

You’ve brought the debate from “Whether Nihlani deserves to be Censor Board Cheif” to “Whether there’s a need for a Censor Board at all” Mr Nihlani. That, to me, is your one & only achievement. Hang tight to that.

 

%d bloggers like this: